we know? How can honors be heaven, since uneasy lies even the head that wears a crown; or riches, which only whet the appetite for more; or power, since timid kings must have their warlike bodyguards; or any or all created goods, since back of each we see the grim figure of death awaiting his turn? Some dying saints, they say, have received, ere death, the joys of heaven; and oftentimes, in dreams, we traverse fields Elysian, but, apart from empty dreams or doubtful vision, there is no heaven here. There is an island in a southern sea — the isle of Capri — the loveliest spot on earth — where Nature rivals God for man's affections, and God, to hold man's love, must needs perform a yearly miracle; and tourists call it paradise; but among the peasants I found the direst poverty, nor aught of happiness save one, a lonely hermit on the mountain top, his thoughts intent on God. Another day in the great St. Peter's, thronged with people from every land, the Pontiff celebrated Mass, and when the elevation came and every head, from prince to peasant, bowed, and sword and muskets clanged as soldiers kneeled, and a tiny ray of light played round the Pontiffs head, and a tiny ray of sound from a silver bell alone broke the stillness, till down from the dome came the heavenly music of the trumpeters — then people said 'twas heaven, and, truth to say, 'twas like it — but no! many a sinful, unbelieving heart was there, many a sorrow-laden soul; many a form bending under a weight of woe as heavy as that of the heartbroken Leo; but for heaven, we must look higher still — to
